Three Postcards from a Walk Through the South of England

by J.E. Mason

I crouch in the eye
Of the long-legged horse, ready
To rope a chalk-white wind.                              (Uffington)

These caroling stones
Dance in muscular desire
Across the plangent earth, skyward,
These five thousand years.                                 (Avebury)

By summer’s end, how can it be
This dew pond
Would not rise and vanish?                               (Litton Cheney)